


Switchboard

by whitchu



Category: Wolverine (Movies), Wolverine and the X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Female Reader, Logan can smell whats up, Logan to the Rescue, Logans monkey brain say punch, Mild Gore, My First AO3 Post, Paranoia, Slow Burn, Stalker, Trauma, Wolverine - Freeform, babys first fanfic, reader is being stalked, there is minor death, theres romance hidden in here I promise, upped to mature rating only because Logan gets angy, you just gotta look for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 09:02:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27968006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitchu/pseuds/whitchu
Summary: These occurrences were never consequential until you realized there was actual intent behind them. You found intent in seeing the same shadow behind you as you walked home in the cold November evenings, in hearing shoes scraping across the gravel in the road when you unloaded your mailbox, in sensing a pair of eyes on you everywhere you went. You were being watched.
Relationships: Logan (X-Men)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	1. Circuit

It was subtle at first. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. A shadow in the corner of your eye in passing, sounds of footsteps as you turn the keys in the lock of your door, accidental eye contact with a stranger. All these insignificance's would usually never raise your concern or even a second thought.   
These occurrences were never consequential until you realized there was actual intent behind them. You found intent in seeing the same shadow behind you as you walked home in the cold November evenings, in hearing shoes scraping across the gravel in the road when you unloaded your mailbox, in sensing a pair of eyes on you everywhere you went. Yet still, you weren’t alarmed yet.   
What alarmed you was seeing the shadow flicker outside your windows, hearing shoes scraping the pavement outside your porch, being kept awake in bed at night because you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. By then you made the connection that you weren’t truly in the company of privacy in your own home, but rather in the company of a stranger. A stranger you did not trust nor had welcomed.

Yet god help you, you still held out that these were mere coincidences. Ever the hopeful person, you kept these concerns to yourself but remained wary. You walked a little faster home, you double checked that your door was locked, and you shut the curtains to your room.

You didn’t realize the real threat of it all until it seemed impossibly late to get help.

***

You worked an auto parts shop. It wasn’t anything to brag about. Being the only female there came with its challenges, especially in a small town with underdeveloped views on women. Despite that you overcame the daily struggle of weird, old guys flirting with you or the occasional cat call from your coworkers, and with that you managed to make it your sanctuary. The one thing that separated you from the real world was your job. In job world, you didn’t have to worry about relationships with friends or family, or about your crippling loneliness, or about anything emotional. Here your only worry was keeping stock of car and auto parts, the occasional oil change, and customers -and that was fine by you. 

Aside from annoying Kevins trying to bargain over an oil can because they think you don’t know anything, you had some favorite regulars you liked to help out. Ms. Helsby, the single, overworked mom came in from time to time to fix up her banged up 1999 Toyota Corolla, which she likes to assert every time with such an intense scorn how her ex ‘may have taken my savings to blow in a week, but at least he left me this shitbox Corolla that’ll last forever’. You valued her steadfastness and her weary smile when she left. Another favorite was a sweet old man who repaired his sons’s dirt bikes every time they got in an accident.   
And lastly, Logan. Not Sir or Mr. Howlett, as he firmly told you the first time not to call him that. Just Logan. He came in regularly to buy parts for his pet project: an old, red Harley. He came in, did his business with no hassle, and spoke kindly -but firmly- to you. He reminded you of a sagious and worn soldier, one you would respect of course, with his directness and the ‘not-to-be-messed-with’ look. Also, you had a thing for him -ever the rugged and masculine beast of a man that he is, but you’ve never said that. 

***  
As mentioned, you didn’t acknowledge the possibility that you had a stalker, at least not before. Today you were left to close shop, so you carried on the same dance; taking stock of products, putting away items, and locking the place down. Pocketing your keys, you made the journey home as late evening set in. It being early November, it was a crisp cold outside. You hugged your jacket closer against yourself. Since the auto shop wasn’t that far from your home, you didn’t bother wasting gas by driving here. Also, you liked walking.

Taking the rural road that was lined by trees and forestry, you found peace in the beautiful golden glint of the fall leaves as the last hints of sun lit them like lanterns. The unpaved road was etched in the colorful leaves and fallen acorns, the combination crunching under your boots.

Warmth was dissipating quickly with the suns’ setting, so you wanted to make haste with your walk home, the shivering an example of why. Not far into your journey did you realize that your boots weren’t the only thing crunching on leaves. In the distance you heard the same commotion of footsteps. It wasn’t unusual, but you fared a glance to the side to see a person, too far to make out any other details or features, but a person walking nonetheless. You were well aware of girl world and the dangers of a lone woman in a desolate place, but that wasn’t relevant as of yet. You just kept walking and minding your own.

Gradually, you would notice that the person, a man, was getting closer and closer, closing the distance between himself and you. You weren’t worried, but you did pick up the pace a bit. You didn’t look over your shoulder in case you’d make yourself or him feel suspicious, but you listened carefully to hear him pick up the pace too. Okay, this is fine. 

Your nerves were slightly alight, but you held strong. You needed to make a turn up ahead of the path you were currently on, by then you could step off the scenic road and if you weren’t in real danger, it would be away from the stranger. You tried to make your fast-walking look natural, as to not give away just how nervous you really were. Your hand clenched the keys in your pocket, getting clammy. 

You counted down your steps, eyes focused on the road splitting onto a more gravely path up ahead. The crunching of leaves from you and the stranger was disruptive to your ears, but you weren’t paying attention to who was behind you.   
The turn was here, so you automatically maneuvered yourself in that direction. Your boots now crunched on the gravel pathway, a relief to hear compared to the still crunching leaves from behind you. You took a moment to walk a good few meters into the pathway before looking behind you. The stranger had walked past.   
Relief washed over you like balm. That was the end of it. You turned to continue on your jolly way back home, but paused when you heard the scatter and drag of foot steps. The stranger, the man, was on the gravel road. He had turned around.

He had turned around.

The shock on your face was clear as for the first time your eyes met with his dark, wide ones. It was evident you both were now directly acknowledging each other, and this situation couldn’t be ignored or excused any longer.   
You didn’t feel comfortable standing there any longer, so you suddenly started in a bolt for your house. Now if your heart wasn’t hammering enough with what was going on currently, it really started crashing like symbols in your ears when the sound of running behind you was just as audible. You were being pursued, and now chased. 

Your thoughts were in a frenzy, the fight-or-flight instincts fuel for your legs. You sprinted down the path, making a sharp turn to grab onto the top of the chipped picket fence. You pulled yourself up, your veins gone haywire in the abruptness of it all as you thrusted yourself over the edge of the fence. The tips of the picket beams scraped your back but you didn’t care, nor had the time to. Sprinting across the yard, you scrambled onto the small porch of your house, grabbing the keys in your pocket.

Precious moments flittered away like when you card pages of a book, rushing to find the right key on the chain and jam it into your doorlock. You desperately turned and turned the key, an audible click assuring that the door was now unlocked. You turned the knob and scrambled inside, the sounds of heavy footsteps a good few meters behind you resounding and being the last thing you heard before you slammed the door behind you, locking it shut.

There was a tense few moments where you held your breath, pressed against the door as you heard the foot steps still. After a moment, they stepped away, brisk and heavy. You were hunched against the door momentarily, the sound of your heart beat too loud in your ears in the desolate and intense silence of your home.

After a good long moment, your breath escaped your caged lungs in a rasped and desperate sob.

***

Work the next day was mostly the same. Your sanctuary hadn’t been compromised, and you were plenty safe in a store with cameras and people. The night before, you had called the police and the sheriff came to your house to make the report. Even with the description you gave, it wasn’t enough to find the man, but the sheriff assured that if they did they’ll take care of it. Meanwhile, you were encouraged to not walk alone and catch photographic or video evidence if it were to ever occur again. Big help that was, but after a restless night you fared okay for now. It was definitely a scare to you, but you had driven to work today, being extra cautious.

You were standing behind the cash register, stocking the front of it with product. The door opened and dinged on cue. You turned your head, recognizing Logan stepping into the store. You waved to him in greeting, and received a nod in return. You watched him meander behind the aisles and disappear to get whatever he needed. You turned back to finish unloading a box of batteries into its shelf, then packing the empty boxes away. 

After a minute or so Logan came back, holding the items he needed. You were already waiting behind the purchases. 

“Hey Logan, how was your day?” 

You greeted as per usual. 

“Fine.”

He gruffed, ever the man of many words.

You occupied yourself with scanning the items and racking up his purchases. You looked up to take his cash, pausing momentarily at seeing his expression. His dark brows were furrowed, not in an angry look, but looking more… concerned? You didn’t think much, just took his money and opened up the register. Was something on your face maybe? Whatever it was you couldn’t worry about it at this moment, handing Logan his change. 

He thanked you, shuffling his bags, and for a moment it seemed like he paused and wanted to say something, but didn’t.

“Bye y/n.” 

He murmured, turning away and exiting the shop. 

Upon further inspection in the bathroom mirror later on, you found there was nothing on your face, or in your hair, so you weren’t certain at what exactly Logan was even staring at so strangely.

***

A day, it only took a day for that man to return.

You were in the safety of your home, but spotting the peeking eyes of that man through the living room window had frightened the living daylights out of you. You didn’t wait to question him, going into another room and locking the door as you phoned the police, hands clammy and pulse jumping.

And again, Sheriff wasn’t in time to catch the trespasser. The same words echoed about getting photo evidence. You didn’t want to wait for a next time to get evidence. You wanted help. You couldn’t stop the tremor in your voice, even though you were disappointed, you didn’t want to be left alone. You watched the blue trailer of the police car drive away hopelessly.

***

The following week had transpired into your own personal living hell. The sound of a door shutting alone was enough to make you jump out of your skin. Your home, what should have been your refuge, became your cage.   
After the second time you had phoned the police you had been extra careful to check all the locks in your house. And you didn’t stop seeing that man. For several nights you had awoken to creaks and shuffling outside your windows, and you knew someone was out there wandering your property. Paranoia had made a nest in your home, because you were constantly walking on egg shells. Going outside was a no go for you. When you went to get the mail or go to your car you looked around before running to and from them. Every time you started to feel ridiculous, you were reminded of just how terrified you really were. You found these reminders in seeing a glimpse of the mans hair while driving home, in the shadows behind every corner, in the knowledge that there was almost always another presence nearby. It drove you to near insanity.

It’s as if now your life was starting to feel like it wasn’t your own. You had no say in what was going to happen to you, and the most frustrating thing was you couldn’t get a grasp of this control back. It was utterly miserable.

The place of work you had made your sanctuary, where real life can’t come in the way of car parts, felt like a sentence too. The time you lost at night not sleeping from the terror rattling you awake penalized you at work. You were run down and had no energy to even fake being normal. You had made a third phone call to the police the day before, and as expected nothing could be done, but not only that, you were warned to not call unless it was an emergency or you had proof of it. You were being tormented, and no one believed you. 

Worst of all, you were losing a grip on reality. Your house didn’t feel like it was your own, nothing did. You would come home exhausted, only to spend that time religiously checking the locks on doors and windows. It became a routine, the only order in the chaos that was being bred in your life. It was times like these where you wished to at least be in the company someone you knew and could confide to. The worst realization was that you were going through this all alone. 

You saw that man in everything, even if he wasn’t there. In the shadows of trees, in the rustle of leaves, in the bitter coldness of isolation. You began to even question yourself if you were really sound of mind.

On Thursday night, your cage was broken into.

On nights like these, filled with paranoia as you were, you could only barely fall asleep when it was in the chasm of silence. The creeks of the house always awoke you, and you opened your eyes to squint through the darkness. You were curled up on your side, back to the window your bed was pushed against. You had stopped using any lights over the week in fear of alerting the stranger that you were home. The faint light of the moon reflected across your room from the window. You rubbed your eyes momentarily, adjusting to the darkness as things started taking shape.   
Your eyes were drawn to the shapes of the flickering moonlight in your room, sleepily staring into space.  
The faintest realization began that the shadow blocking the moonlight was starting to look more and more humanoid, until you full blown registered it.  
The human shadow crouching, blocking the rays of moonlight at your window.

The human crouching outside your second story window.

You stared, eyes wide in the darkness and heart palpitating. It can’t be. Your mind was sewing tricks from darkness- oh but his arm moved.

He’s here.

Outside your window, the man was watching you sleep. What if he knew you weren’t actually asleep? Would he break in if you moved?  
This was the closest he had ever been to you, and the fact that the only thing separating you and him was a piece of glass was undoubtedly the most horrid realization you had made. You laid there in the stillness of darkness, back to the window. You wanted to sob. Never had you felt so vulnerable in your own home. In your own bedroom.

It was painful to think that a device that could directly communicate with 911 within seconds was right within reach on the nightstand, but you couldn’t move. You wouldn’t dare move.

You skin felt like pinpricks, seizing up fearfully. You wanted to run, unleash the icy scream locked deep in your throat, cry for help for someone. Anyone.

Your eyes teared up, throat painfully tangled up as you watched the unmoving shadow. You feared turning around to see, to look into the dark features of the man. The minds’ fantasy unfurled the most sickening and twisted imaginations of a dark, contorted face. Why you? Why were you made to suffer the consequences of this sick man? Of this monster. 

You felt like you were sinking deeper and deeper into this dark pit. 

***

While it would have made sense to call the police as soon as you could, you didn’t. Something told you your would receive the same results. No help and trouble. That night of terror you hadn’t slept. You laid as prey for some sick fuck to watch for what felt like hours.

After what was most likely ten to fifteen minutes of laying agonizingly still, you had watched the shadow move away from the window, hearing a distant rustle of the stranger climbing down momentarily after. And still you remained. He would keep coming back as long as no one could help you. 

Somehow, through all the terror and bone-shaking paranoia, you accepted this. You were drained mentally, not to mention physically from the loss of sleep and sanity. You were on the verge of crying always but didn’t have the energy to empty the well brimming your eyes.

You barely registered work, standing at the checkout and going through the motions of work. You were sick with sleeplessness.

The shop in front of you was just a blur, but with the hopeless turn of your head you spotted him, in brood daylight.   
The man stood outside in the parking lot, pacing like he was debating on entering the shop. You couldn’t even bring yourself to be alarmed. This was your life. And your stalker held it in his hands to play with like yarn. 

You lowered your head deeply, the first tears brimming past your eyes as you squeezed them shut. You cupped your hand tightly around your mouth to strain the pained tug of a sob, your shoulders sunken lowly in defeat. You hadn’t even noticed there was someone in the store, until they made themselves aware by touching your shoulder. 

A full body flinch shook you like ice. You emitted a pained gasp as you looked up through teary eyes. Logan stood on the other side of the counter, arm outstretched to touch your shoulder. He had the same look of concern he had last week, only more worried and surprised.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to talk or apologize, throat constricted painfully like a chokehold.

“Hey, what's been bothering you?”

Logan was the first to speak. His tone was surprisingly and unrecognizably soft, a very strange tone for his vocals.

‘Whats been bothering you’ showed his understanding that you have been troubled for a while.

You didn’t even have the capability to control you tears, or even care to with how far gone you were. 

Through pained sniffles you shook your head. You couldn’t find the voice to say anything.

Logan sighed deeply through his nostrils as his posture sank, maybe to make himself seem less threatening.   
“Look, I know it’s not my business, but you -... seem really scared.” 

He made an unnatural pause in the middle of his sentence like he was going to say something else.

You were in too much turmoil to care, glancing outside to see the stranger was gone.

“I-...I’m being stalked.”

You admitted brokenly.  
Logans face went through a series of expressions, at first one of shock, then his brows furrowed to what seemed to be a flash of anger, before being school into one of serious concern. With a deep breath, as if to calm himself, he looked back to you.

“Who is?”

He couldn’t hide his dangerous tone well, but you weren’t sure if he was even trying. You even got chills from the thought of what kind of power someone could hold with such turmoil in their voice that sounded like a dark storm brewing. And his dark blue eyes looked like a storm.

“I-I don’t know. There’s nothing I can do.”   
You inhaled deeply, trying to recollect yourself.

“Well maybe there’s something I can do.”

Logan gruffed with finality, almost a growl with how he grit his canines.

You were almost dumbfounded as to why this would be such a concern to him. You were even more confused that Logan suddenly turned around, as if knowing exactly where he was going to go before pausing, looking back at you over the bulk of his huge shoulder.

“It was that guy outside wasn’t it?”

He huffed. You found it wasn’t really a question as you still stared with awestruck and confusion, and he didn’t seem to rely on an answer from you to somehow just know. Like he supernaturally sensed whatever chain that tied you to that stranger you didn’t even know.

“I’ll be back to drive you home before you finish work.”

Logan said firmly. It wasn’t really a suggestion, but you weren’t going to deny it anyway. Throat still caught in a knot, you watched him leave the store.

***

By the time you were cleaning up the shop, you heard the rumble of Logans Harley outside. You peaked from the corner to spot the bulk of his shape in the evening darkness, walking up and entering the store. The bell dinged automatically when the door opened.

Logan was dressed a bit differently than he was earlier, although still in jeans he had on a nicer, non-oil-stained shirt and his grey leather jacket. 

You were still numb to the days happenings, just exhausted and going through the motions. You heard Logan audibly clear his throat, so you officially acknowledged his presence. 

“Hey.”

He murmured in his usual gruff tone.

***

You were seated behind Logan on his Harley, holding onto his middle as he drove you home. The wind beat down your face as he accelerated down the road. Although it was cold, you deeply inhaled it, relishing the cool relief it provided. Maybe because it provided you the feeling that you weren’t so caged like usual. Or, it's because you hadn’t gotten to go outside in a long while. However, the possibility that you felt safe in this moment was also possible.

You were disappointed that the ride was as short as it was. He slowed down once you showed him where you lived, coming to a stop in your drive way. 

You were wary, but not as terrified now that you weren’t alone. You got off his bike, wondering how you could make him stay longer to avoid being alone.

“Thank you Logan.”

You rubbed your hands together to warm them with the friction against the biting cold. You stood momentarily, unsure what else to say. He was quiet for a moment too.

“Hey, you shouldn’t have to worry,”

He began. It sounded like he was going to continue.

“I noticed you were really tense lately.”

His breath was visible in the cold night air. “I just didn’t imagine that you were being followed around by some sick fu-” He seemed to growl the last few words more as he shook his head to recollect himself, like he suddenly cared about what you thought of his language. Not that you did.   
“You won’t be bothered anymore, I promise.” He sighed, anger deflating.   
That was not what you expected to hear. You weren’t stupid, you got the connotation, but you didn’t know how far Logan had gone to make sure such a thing won’t happen. He didn’t even know the worst of what’s happened to you.

You realized you probably shouldn’t be standing around in the cold. But maybe you were using that as an excuse…

“It’s freezing, wanna come in for a coffee or something??”

You dared ask as you visibly shivered in the cold gust of the November air. Logan nodded in agreement to your pleasant surprise, and followed after you.


	2. Rewired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logans perspective.
> 
> These are just drabbles of his different encounters with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I felt guilty that I didn't write enough about Logan in the first chapter and I've decided to add a tiny excerpt of his perspective on things to make the reader feel more special. This technically counts as a drabble because it sucks and its really short but thank you if you stuck around!

Todd's Auto Shop was the closest auto parts store in the area, probably the only one in this scrawny town in the middle of Nowhere, Kansas. If Logan wasn't at work hacking up pine and lumber, or flirting with mistress Danger and her plethora of federal agents, he was working on his precious baby; a red Harley bike. And Todd's was the only means of getting supplies and tools for his craft.  
Logan found that the place lacked some specific parts for vintage bikes such as his the first time he went. The next auto shop was 30 miles in the next town, and he wasn't very keen on making such a journey for only the small chance that he would find the parts.

"Can I help you, _sir_?"

A female asked from behind Logan while he browsed the aisles. He turned to look down at the only employee here, scratching his stubble in thought.

"Do you have a 12 volt battery?"

Logan inquired after a last glance to make sure it wasn't on the shelves anywhere.

"Hm, I don't think so, but would you like for me to order it for you? I'm sure we can get it from the warehouse."

The little employee lady said with thought. That was at least an option. Logan nodded over speaking, not one for many words. The girl motioned for him to follow her to the cash register, walking behind it and typing something up on the computer facing her. Logan stood behind the counter, hands in his pockets as he looked around and waited a moment. 

It didn't take long for the girl to find what he needed, flipping the screen to show him the exact part. The next few minutes were spent with her typing down his contact information and taking payment. "Will you be shopping with us often?" The girl inquired after writing down his information. "I guess so." Logan mumbled dryly. "Then how about signing up to be an awards member? You'll get better deals. You're working on a bike, right?" The girl offered. Logan would usually object, but she made a point and why not. He shrugged and nodded, and the woman set to her computer. She was very helpful and patient in explaining things to him through the process, and Logan didn't get as irritated as he would've expected with things he didn't understand such as this. In the end he got what he needed, the girl thanking him and bidding him a nice day. The store still was lacking to him, but he'll bare it as long as service was helpful. *** 

Logan entered the store, as was usual for him to do once or twice per week. His project was going steady, and he was pretty satisfied with how much of it he'd gotten done. With his income he had enough to provide basic necessities for himself, and with any left over money he'd use on motorcycle parts and cigarettes each week that came with his paycheck. He found that the main employee at the small store, now knowing her as y/n, was quite helpful in getting his parts and tools that the store didn't provide. She always went above and beyond to put the effort in getting him what he needed, when she could've just said they didn't have it and be done. He found he was rather appreciative for her efforts, and in noticing she put the same effort for everyone else to help. He saw these little things in when y/n helped an elderly man carry tires to his car, and even taking care to secure the tires well and bid him a good way; in when she changed some lady's tires and offered discounts when the woman found that it would be a big dent in her savings; even in watching the girl very patiently handle entitled men with their purchases when they doubted her knowledge in car parts. Logan took mercy on her in not being too much of a bother, even if she put a lot of effort to help him get what he needed, he stayed to himself and didn't bother y/n lest he made things more difficult then they should be. 

Though she was a young kid with a lot going for her and being busy handling the shop, Logan preferred to not pry for too much help.

"How's the Harley going, Mr. Logan?"

Y/n inquired conversationally from the counter, leaned over to rest her arms on the surface and offering a comfortable smile. 

_"Just Logan."_

He corrected in his usual grumble manner.

"Right, just Logan."

Y/n chuckled embarrassingly, but still in good nature.

"It can't start yet, but the interiors almost done."

Logan offered simply.

"Just need the wiring done?" 

She filled in, head tilting to juxtapose her inquiry. Logan nodded in his usual, unsmiling manner. The girl seemed to have gotten used to his usual demeanor and didn't take it personally.

"Very well. Let me know if you need anything then, I'll be right there."

Y/n hummed, leaving him be and walking away from behind the counter and to a shelf to the side of the store to unpack boxes and organize the products inside. Logan carried on with his business as usual.

***

Logan wasn't a nosy person. He understood little of the complications of peoples lives, hell, his own was long and brimming with complications. He minded his own business to put simply. When inserting himself into society, he faced it in that manner. In his own house was particularly different. Sure, he was isolated, but he didn't mind tending to the creatures who were abundant in the wild life he chose to isolate himself and his property in.

There was a particular black and white tabby cat that would wander by his house for a little visit a few times a day. Logan didn't acknowledge it at first, but once left his leftover burger meat on the porch after eating to-go in his car just to see if the stray would eat it, and after that the cat seemed to trust him enough to pad up to him when he stepped outside. With a few more enticements of jerky and some egg over a few days, the cat was comfortable enough to let Logan gingerly pet its fur. It was strange at first, being so close to something and instead of greeting it with violence, he was petting it and rubbing its little chin. 

That was about one of the few interactions he got. His only other small interactions with actual society was his boss, which was quick and to the point, and y/n at the auto shop. He stuck to his way of living, and that's how he preferred it.

***

As mentioned, Logan kept to himself. The happenings of other people’s lives was insignificant to him and he probably couldn’t even comprehend such things that normal civilians went through that he’d never dream of having.

However, stepping into Todd’s Auto Shop like clockwork, he noticed y/n wasn’t her usual, helpful self. At first it was nothing of concern. She just looked tired, but still hummed her greetings in good nature. But, as the days wore on, she wore with them, like a little piece of her was smudged with each passing of the day. Y/n looked like she hadn’t slept a wink and wasn’t as enthusiastic as usual. Sure, lots of people hate their job, but y/n looked like it ate years of her life. There was darkness under her eyes and her expression was worn and under stress of furrowed brows.

Logan could definitely tell something wasn’t the same with her. Even her scent was off. He didn’t express it outwardly, but the day he smelled hints of fear and anxiety in y/n’s scent was definitely of concern to him enough to question it. Or at least want to. As y/n racked his purchases he stared, trying to figure out the equation. She was a sweet, bubbly girl -what happened? He didn’t realize he had been staring until his eyes met with hers, looking away just as quickly. It wasn’t his place to care, but he was at least curious.

***

At this point, y/n looked like she had been hit by a truck, checked over, hit again, and then forced to come to work. Not that Logan thought she looked bad, she was fine looking, but she looked tired as hell. But this was a different type of tired. She looked hopeless. Like someone had stomped out her birthday candles or given away a puppy, or whatever it was that made young girls brood and heart broken the way she looked.

Or maybe it was a boy-problem, not that Logan understood it much. He only got that idea when walking to the store that he saw this guy hanging around. He wasn’t young but he wasn’t old, maybe early thirties and had his hands in his pockets. He never entered. Just wandered the front of the store like he wanted something but never entered. He didn’t pay attention at first but he kept seeing that guy, until he made the connection that man was there for y/n.

Logan couldn’t describe how he made the connection that the two were somehow affiliated, but something about your behavior seemed to be affected by this guy showing up. So when one day Logan smelled fear on y/n he knew he had to step in. It wasn’t even something he thought about. He just did. When he saw y/n suddenly lower her head like she was about to cry, and he caught her glance to outside in which he followed to see that same man, he knew there was something going on. 

“Hey, what’s been bothering you?”

Logan said when he reached to touch y/n’s shoulder to get her attention. He didn’t know why he was so surprised to see you raise your head and find that you were actually crying. So the situation was pretty bad.

“I-...I’m being stalked.” 

Y/n blurted through tears. Now that was a whole load that Logan didn’t expect. _Stalking_ was a pretty non-domestic and irregular thing to happen. That wasn’t far from his scope of experiences. That wasn’t a normal person problem, that was dangerous. And he knew how to handle danger. This was business made for him. When Logan drew that conclusion that’s when he felt his temper start to bubble like hot tar. This sweet girl was being stalked by some creep. His face visibly soured at that revelation, but he remembered that he was in front of a person and school his deep frown to look less unsettling. Yes, he was aware that he was quite brutish looking. 

“It’s that guy outside, isn’t it?” 

He grit. He had already turned around, acting before waiting for a response before he remembered he had to control himself somehow, turning his head to y/n. She looked quite shocked, but he never doubted that she would be and the look on her face said it all. Somebody’s gonna pay tonight. 

“I’ll be back to pick you up before you close.” 

Logan grit with finality. Y/n problem fixed. Creep problem about to be dealt with. Logan angry. He wanted to get a move on already. He felt like he wasn’t moving fast enough as he walked outside the store, his fists tingling to kindly kiss something forcefully. When he looked around for the creep he saw the guy, in the distance already walking away. He wasn’t getting away that easy. Logan went the direction the guy went, ready to carve a vendetta in a body. 

***

Claws dripped with bloody execution, steaming even, and it was times like these where Logan felt okay to be like this. To succumb to his brutal nature like this. Here’s to say he gave this guy hell, having dragged him off in the woods to beat up, but when he got into it, he really did, because that escalated to having his claws out. He hadn’t taken those puppies out in a while anyway, and they needed the walk across the expanse of a throat. And he was a mess. 

He stepped back as he noticed himself finally, covered in bright, red blood. It was moments like these that he felt this color was best suited for him. It was practically as natural as sweating to him. 

His anger had dissipated now that he had taken care of what he had set out to do, and he remembered he was supposed to pick up y/n. Right. He should stop by his house and change first. 

***

Y/n had seemed a little hesitant, but she had showed his the directions to her home, and it felt odd when he arrived to the quaint, little house. The job was done and he had finished what he had set out to do, but it still felt like there wasn’t enough being done. Being said. And that was a lot for Logan to admit when he didn’t even talk a lot. 

Y/n seemed to stand for a bit, looking unsure as they paused in her driveway. 

Logan was about to say goodbye before y/n spoke up. 

“It’s freezing, do you want a coffee or something?”

She asked. Logan’s immediate response was almost no, by habit, but he remembered this was y/n and he kind of wanted to know she’d be okay. And have a revelation. He looked at her again. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm Whitney, and if you managed to read this thank you so much. Frankly, I haven't written in years so don't expect quality. If you have a critique or any helpful tips, I'll be very grateful to hear them.
> 
> Sorry that there's no direct romance or that much of Logan. This short story is very sensitive to me because it is based on real life events I have went through, and recently I've been having more anxiety about it so I thought maybe I could write my story but how I would have preferred it to go, because unfortunately I never had Hot Guy Logan there to save me. I'm going to be honest, I don't know how many changes I'll make to this or if I even will, because it was really hard to type this story, especially during certain parts, without breaking into my anxiety like crazy.  
> If any of you are going through similar situations or have gone through it in the past, my heart goes out to you and please reach for help. Don't let this story deter you from calling the authorities if you need to, because this was just my experience and it doesn't apply to everyone.  
> Thank you if you stuck around, and I will be writing more about Logan of course, I just needed this out of the way.
> 
> **Also sorry for the shit ending, I'm terrible at endings. will be taking constructive criticism for future reference, thanks.


End file.
